April 19th 1864.
My Dear Tom
I came up to consult you on a calamity which has befallen me.1 I leave the letter as I must smother its effect—being pledged to a little party at the Athenaeum2 today. Some other particularities have reached me which make the thing more sad.3 I wish I could get away but unfortunately I cannot.4 I am badly able to meet this stroke—it weighs with awful heaviness upon my poor brain.
Yours aff[ectionate]ly | John
RI MS JT/1/T/660
RI MS JT/1/HTYP/527
a calamity which has befallen me: Tyndall’s mother had fallen ill.
Athenaeum: see 1907, n. 7.
Some other particularities have reached me which make the thing more sad: Tyndall’s mother’s mental health was deteriorating, and both she and Tyndall’s sister Emma were living in one room, despite the generous allowance he provided for them. When Tyndall did get to Ireland in May he arranged for Annette Roche, a local friend, to manage his mother’s affairs. See also letters 2094 and 2101.
I wish I could get away but unfortunately cannot: Tyndall had started a series of six lectures for working men at the Royal School of Mines earlier in April 1864. Hirst offered to go in his stead, but this proved unnecessary. Tyndall finished his lectures in early May, and was able to head to Ireland on 4 May (see letter 2091).
Please cite as “Tyndall2088,” in Ɛpsilon: The John Tyndall Collection accessed on